


To Lay Claim

by CellPhish



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Daemons, Demons, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Harems, Historical Fantasy, Love, Monsters, Multi, Mystical Creatures, Mysticism, Omega Verse, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28468527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CellPhish/pseuds/CellPhish
Summary: Two worlds collide when the adventurous Ingrid's expedition to learn more of the natives of the wildlands known as Primus goes sideways. After a profound encounter with a Nicae Alpha known as Rh'nan, Ingrid finds herself enraptured in the allure of the Alpha of Alphas and caught in the middle of escalating conflicts between her own family, the colonists, the Nicaen natives, and the daemon threat that will devour them all if it is not stopped at its source.
Relationships: Ingrid/Rh'nan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> At the time of posting this, this is just a sampling of an idea that came to mind. I don't know if I'll fully pursue it, given my focus on the Red Sun project at the time. If there appears to be enough interest, I will expand it.
> 
> Not really written anything related to the 'omega-verse' niche in years.
> 
> Hope you enjoy and please, if you'd like to see it continue, leave some comments and let me know what you think.

The lands beyond the walls of the fledgling city were such a sharp contrast to home, Ingrid of the House of Verany felt a great sense of relief at the sight of grass and wildflowers she had no names for. The trees had been cut down, their stumps removed and the rocks shattered into bricks and powder for the construction of New Greyston. Some of the cleared land had been tilled to serve as fields for crops such as wheat and corn. The hills to the south of the fledgling city were left to be grazing lands for cattle and sheep. Ingrid was happy to leave all that behind as her carriage left the safety of civilization and plunged down the road into the beautiful unknown of the wilds of the continent they called Primus. 

To the natives, this land was known as Ana’the and it was for this reason Ingrid traveled far from home. Though her parents had taken advantage of the discovery of new, wild lands to tame in a bid to expand their own influence and wealth, Ingrid cared for none of these things. She had grown enamored with the stories of Ana’the and had worked tirelessly to secure herself a place amongst the scholars to pursue expeditions in the study of the cultures of this new, mythical land. Tensions between the settlers and the natives, a tribal people call the Nicae, were violent but that was not the only thing that laid claim to these lands. Ana’the was home to creatures both the Nicae and the colonists called ‘daemons’; monstrous beasts that poisoned anything they touched and hunted without mercy. The daemons preyed upon the Nicae and colonists alike yet the two could not find sense to join together to fight and contain this enemy. 

Despite all that, some tribes of the Nicae were trying more diplomatic approaches to dealing with the colonists. Recently, a novel experiment had been offered to foster an alliance between the powers of New Greyson and a local tribe called Cantiedenis. Ingrid was one of the few scholars that had been invited to spend time among the Cantiedenis tribe and learn of the Nicae in a more intimate fashion. Given that she was a member of the venerable House of Verany, she did not make the journey without an escort... for a multitude of reasons. 

Across from her sat a dark-skinned woman dressed in scale-plate and tempered hide with the crest of her family house upon the collar. Her hair was braided back, blue eyes cold and steely. There was a wicked scar across her right cheek, faded with age. She regarded her charge with cold indifference until Ingrid’s gaze fell on her, then her expressions softened slightly. 

“So serious, Ana.” Ingrid teases her. 

“I’ve only been on brief excursions beyond the walls of New Greyson.” Ana explains, her voice a deep timbre, even for a woman. “I have my misgivings about the natives but the daemons are the most dangerous.” 

“It will be fine. The road to the Cantiedenis’s tribal home has been safe ever since they established a solid trade agreement.” Ingrid reminds her. “This is a fantastic opportunity.” 

“I am surprised you got your father to permit you to go on this expedition of yours. His prized daughter so far from reach...” Ana muses in retort. 

“We both know he only sent you to preserve my chastity. He and mother both believe that either the natives will rape me because I’m an omega or I may decide to ‘go native’.” Ingrid snorts with indignation. 

“Ah, right... your engagement to Michael Greyson. I recall he did not approve of this rebellion of yours.” Ana recalls with equal indignation. 

The rest of the trip is spent in idle chatter, which stops when the carriage pulls aside and lets them out, facing a well-tramped path leading down into a shallow valley. Ingrid’s clothes are made of soft leather and canvas though she wore a shirt woven of silk and dyed a rich blue at her mother’s behest. She had not wished to display her wealth, not just because of being outside the protection of the city but it just wasn’t Ingrid’s style. There was a Nicae waiting for them, a young warrior of the Cantiedenis tribe. 

“May the sun warm your path.” She greets the warrior, a hand over her heart. 

“You know our customs?” The warrior replies with surprise, startled by her greeting. 

“A little but I hope to learn more from you and your tribe.” Ingrid replies gently. 

Flustered and a bit intimidated by Ana’s more imposing stance, he leads them down the path. Ingrid notes there are small pockets of other warriors patrolling near the path as they descend down to the village. The architecture immediately fascinates her, as huts appear to have been woven from the ground itself. At the center was a large square with the biggest hut, surrounded by totems and effigies of the Nicae’s various gods and spirits. Ingrid noted a few of the totems were made from the skulls of various species of daemons, a trace of unease slithering down her spine. 

The largest hut was home to the elder, a wiry old man with leathery, tanned skin and wearing an ornamental head-dress made from the skull of a daemon. It was decorated with a variety of feathers and colored clay beads. He smiles at her, revealing he’s missing some teeth. 

“Welcome, b’ael.” he greets her, Ingrid recalling the term was used to mean the colonists. 

“Thank you for this honor.” Ingrid replies respectfully to him. 

He gestures for her to follow, Ana a step behind. The elder explains to her the lay out of the village while taking her to a small hut across the square. Ingrid is delighted by her simple accommodations despite her life of pampering. Ana seems unimpressed but could not deny that the hut was warm and solid. As soon as the elder leaves, a small group of women approach the hut, whispering among themselves. Ingrid expected the Nicae to be curious, as she was the first omega of her people to come to their village. She smiles and invites the curious lot to come inside. Several of them have baskets and trinkets in their hands as gifts to welcome her. 

“To welcome you. We hope you learn much.” One of the women says in imperfect anglis, not used to speaking another language. 

“I look forward to my lessons.” Ingrid replies in their language almost effortlessly. 

Delighted and fascinated by her respect, the gifts are pressed into her hands or set at her feet, rapid explanations given to her. Ingrid listens patiently, trying to absorb it all. As the excitement dies down and the group of women start to file out to return to their duties, one remains behind. Ingrid observes how much older she looks, wrinkles of age around her eyes and mouth though she also notes a deep sadness in posture. She held something in her hand; a necklace though she couldn’t make out what it was made of until she approached. 

“For protection.” She says to Ingrid in halty anglis, placing the necklace over her head so the amulet rests just above the swell of her chest. 

The rope seemed to be a braid of vines and sinew, beads of polished bone and stone woven in. An amulet made of wood, bone, and precious gems also hung from the rope, the visage of some horned beast she did not recognized carved out of the wood. 

“Blessing of Rh’nan, ward off the alphas and daemons. Keep you safe form evil.” The woman says, leaving just as Ingrid shouts her thanks behind her. 

“What a horrible looking thing.” Ana observes as Ingrid inspects the amulet. 

“I am not familiar with this Rh’nan but not sure why she would think I’m in danger from any alphas.” Ingrid voices aloud as she took inventory of the gifts that had been brought for her. 

“They are still wildfolk, Ingrid... and you are an omega. I’m sure some fool alpha or beta will dare to attempt claiming you at first opportunity.” Her bodyguard retorted sourly. 

“The Caintiedenis are a progressive and civil tribe. Try to be a little more open minded... this has to work if we hope to stop the fighting so both our peoples can focus on expelling the daemons.” Ingrid chides her as she organizes the hut to be more comfortable. 

The pair spent most of the day inside but as the sun sets, a young warrior comes to invite them to evening meal. Ingrid is thrilled to accept the invitation and Ana follows. The tribe sits around a large bonfire where the day’s hunt roasts and stews. Wooden trays with cuts of meat, fruit, and other staples of the Nicae are served and passed around. Ingrid found the smells and spices of the food intriguing, but her appetite is quickly ruined when she feels an intense, malevolent and lusty stare. Nervous, she looks up to see a small band of warriors joining the circle. One is a tall, barrel-chested man with scars marking his arms and torso. The right side of his face is hideously marred by a what appear to be deep claw marks, eye replaced with a false one made of polished glass. The unwelcome stare is coming from this imposing alpha and his leering only intensifies as soon as she makes eye contact with him. 

“Ana... I think I’ll retire early.” Ingrid says to her bodyguard, setting her unfinished food aside. 

Ana notices the note of discomfort in her charge’s voice but does not question. She also sets aside her tray and gets up, following Ingrid back to the hut. She takes position just inside the door, to ambush intruders should anyone come to bother the but they remain undisturbed. That, however, did not bring Ingrid comfort and she slept horribly. 

As the days stretched on, that malevolent, lecherous stare followed her. Sometimes she could spot the hunter and other times she couldn’t. While she was helping with the task of cleaning grain with some of the other villagers, she finally broached the subject. 

“Who is the hunter with the glass eye?” She asks the man next to her, speaking their native tongue more fluently. 

“You mean Faen?” He says, the whole group tensing. “He is the chieftain’s son and the head hunter of our village.” 

“Does he not like b’ael?” Ingrid presses as she continues shelling nuts. 

“No, he does not.” The man retorts simply. “But you are omega and he is alpha... and Faen believes all belongs to him because he is alpha.” 

“You wear the amulet, yes?” A woman across from her asks, the one Ingrid recognizes as the one who gave her the amulet in question. 

“Ah, no.” She admits sheepishly. 

“Wear it. Faen does not like the mark of Rh’nan. It will give him pause, hopefully leave you alone.” She chides her. 

“Will Faen... hurt me?” She asks nervously, feeling a sudden chill down her spine. 

“He is bitter and greedy. Though would not dishonor our tribe, he is not above trickery to get around our rules and laws.” The woman retorts coldly, others nodding in agreement. 

Unsettled about this ‘Faen’, Ingrid finds herself wearing the amulet, even in her sleep. Ana is on high alert but the hunter does not force a confrontation. It seemed, as the days stretched into weeks, he was content with keep his distance. Ingrid grew used to the unwelcome staring and settled into the daily ebb and flow of the Nicae way of life. At first, she simply helped out with some of the more menial tasks and asked questions, working on her speech. As the inhabitants of the tribe grew to trust her, she was permitted to assist in more important tasks. It was nearly a month before she was welcome on an excursion into the nearby woods. 

The other gatherers were more than happy to show her how to identify the plants they harvested for medicine and cooking. Which ones to avoid and even educated her a little on the markings and tracks of the local fauna. Ana stood guard but did not participate, despite the efforts of some of the bolder Nicae. The disposition of the excursion, however, was quickly soured when Faen and his band of hunters arrived uninvited. 

“You should not be here.” a few of the gatherers protested but they were clearly scared of him. 

“And you will do what, runt?” He growls tauntingly as they shrink away from him. “The b’ael there will make good sport.” 

Sensing the danger, Ana’s hand immediately went to the haft of her blade, only for her to be blindsided by one of Faen’s hunters. The punch rattled her skull and sent Ana to her knees. Another hunter joined in and hauled her to her feet as the two restrained her. 

“You can have that b’ael. Too manish.” He laughs as he approaches Ingrid. 

She is very afraid but does not flee from him, something that seems to make him hesitate for a brief moment. His musk is heavy, with that attractive undertone to it that permeates all alphas. His one good eye glances down and he stops dead at the sight of the amulet. His expression suddenly contorts into one of rage. He shouts at her but he’s speaking so rapidly, she can barely translate. A backhanded strike snaps across her cheek and knocks her to the ground, dazed. She can feel clothes tear and strong, unwelcome hands grabbing at her and she lashes back, a sharp kick of her heel managing to catch Faen in the groin and forcing him to stop for a moment. 

The air is thick with the smell of sulfur, the grass and bushes withering within seconds as the soil turns black and insects crawl up from beneath the surface. The slavering howls of daemons follow a moment after as the gatherers run in terror. Ana manages to shrug off her captors and draw her blade as the first beast comes tearing through the withered trees. It looks like a wolf as from the fact that its head splits side-ways in a horribly fanged maw. The front legs are over-sized and grotesquely clawed as it comes barreling at Ana, three more following in its wake. Her blade cuts deep as she narrowly avoids it, franticly looking and calling for Ingrid as she is lost in the chaos. 

Ingrid’s blood has run cold in absolute terror as she manages to narrowly avoid being trampled but one of the hound daemons wheels around in a scramble of limbs and comes back for her. The head splits open to reveal its horrid maw, ropes of saliva dripping from the rotted teeth. She thinks to scream, to run... anything but all she can do is stare as hot tears burn her eyes. The beast lungs upon her and bites down on her arm as she desperately tries to fend it off. Venom burns into her veins as she screams, the daemon’s touch corrupting her blood and its poison painfully spreading through her. The beast lets her go as Ana charges, wildly swinging and cursing at it. 

One of the beasts lets out a sharp howl as suddenly what appears to be an impossibly large javelin or spear impales it to the ground, its origin unknown to tell through the trees and miasma. The remaining daemons, including the largest, turns its head towards the south, snarling as something approaches. Ana uses the opportunity to haul Ingrid to her feet and drag her along. As they limp hurriedly back towards the direction of the Cantiedenis village, she can hear the yelps and howls of the daemons behind them being silenced one by one and she dare not think what is capable of killing those creatures. 

“Ingrid!” Ana shouts as her charge stumbles to the ground. 

The veins in her arm are pitch black and she is foaming at the mouth as the daemon’s venom seeps into her and ravages her internally. They are too far from help and even if they did make it to the village, Ana knows neither them or the medics in New Greyson could cure the painful ailments of the daemon’s touch. 

Fearing another daemon is on their heels, Ana draws her blade but finds herself blindsides and knocked to the ground by an equally intimidating foe. The world is a blurry haze of fading color to Ingrid, weakly trying to reach out for Ana before her strength completely gives out. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested, I worked on a second chapter. Please, leave comments and feedback, as it helps a lot.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Ingrid tosses and turns in her sleep, plagued by visages of daemons and a monstrous yet ethereal figure. She finds herself falling through agonizing darkness, voices whispering. At times, in a delirious haze, she feels like she sees the faces of her parents, the Nicae, Ana, her fiancé... but the most dominant figure is the visage of a mask crowned with a mess of antlers or horns, golden eyes staring down at her through the slits. Ingrid finally wakes with a startling shock and finds herself in her own bed, back at her family’s home in New Greyson. 

“Ingrid!” Ana exclaims with relief upon seeing her awake. 

“W-what?” Is all Ingrid can manage in her confusion. 

Her throat is parched, lips cracked from dehydration. The cup of water Ana presses into her hands feels heavenly as she noisily drinks. 

“It is a miracle you recovered.” Ana says as she refills the cup. “I thought we were dead all those weeks ago.” 

“Weeks?!” Ingrid sputters, spraying water everywhere as she nearly chokes. 

“Yes.” Ana thumps her on the back and waits until she calms before continuing. “You had been bitten during the attack and I thought, believed, you were lost but then...” Her expression grows distant as she starts to recall the events of that day. 

~*~*~ 

Ana tasted blood in her mouth but moved to push herself up, blade still in hand. 

“Stay down.” A stern, feminine voice warns her. 

She found herself staring at a bare calf of ebony flesh, what appeared to be tree bark grafted directly into the skin as a kind of greave. Her gaze travels up to take in the lithely muscle physique of a Nicae women towering over her, dressed in a skirt of pelts, vines, and bone charms. The rest of her was bare, exposing a magnetize bare of ebony breasts, darker nipples pierced with what looked like slivers of bone or teeth. A horned mask sat over her face, the visage familiar to Ana but she couldn’t place where. 

One of the daemonic hounds snarled and lunged at her, only to be stopped mid-air as the woman caught it by the throat as if it were an ill-behaved pup. The beast thrashed its limbs wildly, maw snapping and flinging spittle everywhere. The Nicane’s muscles bunched as her hand crushed the beast’s throat, silencing its snarling then smashing the creature into the ground. The sickening crunch of bone and flesh made Ana’s stomach turn but the woman seemed unphased. The biggest of the daemons seemed to realize the danger of this individual and paced around her warily. The two watched, waiting for one of them to make the first move. Impatience finally got to the hound first and the daemon lunged low to target her legs. With an inhuman reaction, the Nicane shifted back and brought the gnarled-shafted spear in her hand around to smashing into the side of the daemon’s face. Its jaw broke and hung limply but the beast only staggered a moment before regaining its footing. Enraged, it rushed at the oddly calm Nicae warrior again, only to be brought up short as the spear pierced down its throat. Ana watched in mesmerized horror as the momentum of the beast carried it through, effectively skewering itself on the weapon until the bloodied stone tip came out its back end. With brutal ease, the Nicae ripped the daemon of its weapon, half the bloodied corpse thrown to the side while the rest fell to the ground in a wet thud. 

The remaining daemon had stopped, seeing its pack demolished. With some spark of intelligence, the beast turned and fled. The Nicae watched it vanish in the trees, then with some pre-natural senses Ana couldn’t begin to fathom, the warrior adjusted the grip on her spear and cocked her arm back, muscles taunt and corded before she lunged forward and threw the weapon. It was a long, tense silence but she could faintly hear the yelp and impact of the spear as it slew the fleeing daemon. 

“By all that is holy...” She mutters, the spell suddenly breaking and remembering everything that had transpired before. “Ingrid!” She shouts. 

Ingrid lays in the grass, each breath a ragged rasp of agony as the daemonic venom was eating her alive from the inside. Her eyes were glazed over, completely unaware of her surroundings as seizures of pain wracked her body. Ana knew there was no saving her charge, as a daemon’s bite was an agonizing death and all she could do was watch. She thought to put Ingrid out of her misery, as the suffering wracking her body was too much to bear witness to. 

However, the decision was made for her as Ana found her arm held in check by a steely grip. She looks up to find the masked Nicae towering over her, hand wrapped around her wrist. 

“No. She can be saved but quickly.” 

Stunned, the blade drops from her hand and Ana can only watch as the Nicae gingerly scoops up Ingrid to carry her in her arms. She whistles and moments later a great stag appears to materialize from the shadows of the forest. It bows to her and snorts, stepping over a daemon corpse with indifference. 

“Get on.” The Nicae instructs Ana. 

Numb to what is happening, she obediently puts her hand on the neck of the stag, fingers curling in the thick mane of fur, and hauls herself up onto its back. The beast is utterly calm but she holds tight as it suddenly leaps forward and runs at full speed. To her surprise, the lithe-limbed Nicae woman, carrying Ingrid, is keeping pace with the stag... no, the stag was keeping pace with her. Ana holds tight to the beast’s neck with both hands, afraid she would be bucked off otherwise. She had no sense of where they were going for a long time but, eventually, she managed to look up to the sight of a mountain towering over them. She knew little about this peak, aside from the fact it was hundreds of miles inland, at the heart of Ana’the and was a sacred site to the Nicae. 

None were allowed here and yet here they were. 

The masked Nicae did not slow her pace as the terrain sloped upwards and became rough, the muscles in her legs bunching and flexing with each great leap she took. The stag followed close behind as they navigated the jagged roots of the mountain until they landed on a plateau with a yawning cave opening on the far side. Her long strides were still urgent but they were no longer running as the shadows of the cavern swallowed them. 

Ana looked up as she could hear the sounds of rushing water and the song of birds, the winding tunnel leading into a massive, open air cavern that seemed to be at the heart of the mountain itself. A great waterfall poured from the top of the opening above their heads, filling a pool with pure, crystal clear water. At the center appear to be a weathered stone statue with an altar before it, the serene visage of a face between the twisting trunks of a pair of trees that enveloped the structure. The stag remained at the edge as the masked Nicae continued towards the altar. The water only comes to her knees as she crosses and carefully lays Ingrid on the altar. 

Ingrid’s skin is pale and clammy to the touch, the black veins closer to her heart. Her left eye is completely black and shedding tears of blood. The masked Nicae looks up at the statue looming over her, as if waiting for something. 

From her position, Ana sees nor hears any of this. When the Nicae draws a knife from her belt, Ana panics and tries to run forward but suddenly finds herself stuck after a couple of stemps into the water. She looks down to find roots and vines winding up and around her legs, mud covering her boots to keep her held fast. 

“INGRID!” 

~*~*~*~ 

“We... you’re sure that’s where I was taken?” Ingrid asks, her raspy voice full of awe. “The holy mountain of Ana’the?” 

“I believe that’s where we were.” Ana nods. “The cavern we were in looked like a shrine. The Nicae woman never left your side during... whatever the ritual was that saved you.” 

“What can you tell me about the ritual?” Ingrid asks, her excitement causing a coughing fit that took her a few minutes to calm down, an ache settling in her chest. 

“I do not know, I was not allowed closer. At times, I thought I heard a second voice but there was no one else there besides us three and animals that came and went to bring food.” Ana’s expression grows serious, but remorseful. “However, Ingrid... there was a cost.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Whatever they did, it couldn’t reverse everything. You’ve been scarred.” 

“H-how badly?” Ingrid swallows, her entire posture tense. “Let me see.” 

Ana reaches to the nightstand to pick up a hand mirror and slowly turns it around for Ingrid to view herself. Her breath catches in her throat as she sees herself. Her left eye is completely black despite being able to see out of it just fine. Her hand leading up to her elbow is completely black and she can make out the puckered marks of the daemon’s bite on her forearm. The skin transitions to her normal tone but there are veins of black running up her neck to her blackened eye. 

“O-oh my.” Ingrid at last manages to say, tears welling up in her eyes though the tears of the left are of blood. 

Quickly setting the mirror down, Ana reaches across with a kerchief and wipes the tears from her face. Ingrid sniffles as she slumps back in her bed, feeling exhausted. Though it was a miracle she had survived the daemon’s venom, she knew her appearance would now cause problems for her parents. Something else they would lord over her head. 

“Where are my parents?” Ingrid asks quietly, realizing Ana is the only one in the room. 

“No one but me was allowed in here and only because Rh’nan wanted me to explain what happened, since I was there.” Ana explains. 

“Rh’nan?” Ingrid asks, not recognizing the name. 

“I am Rh’nan.” A deep, feminine voice responds from the door way. 

Perhaps having been listening, the timing of the Nicae’s entrance is perfect. The towering woman ducks her head under the doorjamb as she crosses the threshold, the various ornaments of bone, beads, and feathers rattling. Ingrid catches a glimpse of her parents peering into the room from the hallway before the door is closed. Yellow eyes peer at her from past the slits in the face of the mask but the exotic figure remains by the door. 

“You will need to rest for some time to regain your strength. I am sorry I could not undo all of the daemon’s mark.” 

“Y-you’re... sorry? You saved my life!” Ingrid croaks. “You performed a miracle!” 

“Ana’the wished to save your life. I merely carry out their will.” Rh’nan retorts almost dismissively though the way she shuffles her weight suggests she is embarrassed by the praise. 

“Still, I am alive because of you.” Ingrid continues after a deep drink of water to parch her dry throat. 

“I have left medicine with instruction with your madra. It will help you regain your strength and treat any lingering side effects from the venom.” Rh’nan nods. 

“Truly, thank you. May... I see your face?” Ingrid asks. 

Rh'nan balks and blusters for a moment, having intended on leaving to return to the mountains before the b’ael here got too curious or worse. This one, however... Ana’the had some vested interest in that she could not fathom nor was she in the habit of questioning such a wise creature. Nodding her consent, Rh'nan reaches up and lifts the carved mask from her face. 

Ingrid inhales sharply and Ana’s response is much the same though her jaw falls agape as they stare upon the face of their savior. The woman’s irises are yellow, pupils dilated in an oblong fashion. Before, Ingrid had thought the antlers were part of the mask but no, they grew from the woman’s skull like a tangle of branches. High cheekbones and sharp jawline framed a deceptively soft face. Her full lips are painted with some kind of white chalk as well as streaks of the same material on her cheeks. As their stares drew on, Rh’nan felt herself very self-conscious. 

“I... must return to my vigil. I’ve already been gone for too long from the mountains.” Rh’nan says to break the spell, pulling the mask back over her face. 

“O-of course. Will... I ever see you again?” Ingrid blurts out, still mesmerized. 

“I cannot promise, as I rarely deal with b’ael but... perhaps,” is all the Nicae woman tells her. 

Rh’nan leaves the room and a moment later, both Lord and Lady Verany surge into the room to see their daughter, having been denied so for the past few weeks. Ingrid’s mother wraps her in a tight hug, sobbing with relief while her father stands at the side of the bed with an equal expression of relief though he does not cry as his wife does. Ingrid is smothered under her mother’s attentions but after another coughing fit, she is given mercy and her mother steps away, dabbing at her eyes with her own handkerchief. 

“I am so happy to see you awake.” Lord Verany says, taking his daughter’s hand in his own. “I knew letting you go on that foolish expedition...” 

“It was not foolish father! I was learning so much and I knew the risks...” Ingrid protests weakly. 

“Yes, and if wasn’t for that sav... Nicae woman, we would have lost you to those monsters.” He retorts, seemingly humbled by the experience. “I am just so glad to have you back.” 

“When she brought you in, we thought you were dead!” Lady Verany exclaims as a fresh wave of tears flood her eyes. “And then that heartless Greyson boy...” 

“Hannah...” Lord Verany warns. 

“M-michael was here?” Ingrid swallows, the words nearly sticking in her throat. 

“Yes. Governor Greyson heard what had happened and his son came to... see the state you were in.” her father says with an uncomfortable tone. “We got into an argument over our arrangement, mostly because Michael was not thrilled about... well...” 

Though her father would not outright say it, Ingrid knew it was because of her new scars. The discoloration of her arm, face and her eye likely unsettled such a disgustingly vain man like Michael Greyson. For a moment, she felt relieved that the arranged marriage between them was off. 

“I managed to salvage the situation with the Governor, however.” Lord Verany says with smug relief. 

“What?! Father! I don’t want to marry Michael!” Ingrid protests, putting herself into another coughing fit. 

“It’s decided and that’s final. Just concentrate on regaining your strength.” Her father retorts dismissively. 

Ana sat through the whole exchange silently, though her expression is one of chagrin. She was not allowed to speak out in defense of Ingrid nor voice her opinions. The ones she had of the Greyson’\s were not very flattering to begin with but she was subservient to the Verany family, which is why she waited until the Lord and Lady were out of the room and safely down the hall. 

“Michael is a disgusting pig! He insulted you and your parents and your father still wishes to bind his house to the Greysons.” She snarls angrily, fists clenched in her lap. 

“Father always thinks he’s doing what is best.” Ingrid sighs with exhaustion, her mind drifting elsewhere as her eyes feel heavy. 

“Here. Rh’nan said to give this to you.” Ana says as she pulls out a necklace, Ingrid recognizing it as the one the village woman had given her. 

She clenches it in her hand briefly, suddenly feeling warm and assured before realizing the sensation is stemming from the amulet itself. Ingrid opens her hand and stares at the object in wonder, noticing it appears to have gone through some modifications since she last saw it. 

A smoothed piece of an amber-colored crystal sits in the center, behind the carved head and it pulses with warmth. The cord holding it appeared to be made of some kind of fiber and little flowers were budding and blossoming along its length. 

“She fixed it. Said something that it would let her reach you when needed.” Ana shrugs. “I have no idea what she meant by that.” 

“Then I best keep it on me this time.” Ingrid murmurs, quickly putting it over her head so the amulet rested over her bosom. “Rh'nan was some woman, huh?” 

“I... suppose.” Ana replies with a blush. 

“Your mouth was hanging open.” Ingrid laughs, making herself cough. 

“So was yours!” 


End file.
